


Tryst

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: I Capture the Castle (2003), I Capture the Castle - Dodie Smith
Genre: F/M, Just smut, Smut, a sort of sequel to bluebells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24678328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: A sort of sequel to "Bluebells," but just an excuse to write more smut about baby!Henry.
Relationships: Stephen Colley/Reader, Stephen Colley/You
Kudos: 18





	Tryst

After breakfast, you waited until everyone had left the room and then dipped your hand into your pocket, smiling as your fingers brushed the soft petals of a bluebell.

Stephen had started making a habit of slipping one into your pocket during mealtimes - the one time you’d be together with everyone, where he could touch you casually without anyone noticing.

You’d only managed one tryst since your first time, the others being unwittingly thwarted by your brother and sister, or Stephen being summoned for one of his many labouring tasks.

Every time you saw him at lunch, breakfast or dinner, your face heated. On the occasions he sat next to you, he’d slide a hand up your thigh, his fingers circling on your skin, pushing the hem of your dress up. It was certainly a challenge to keep your face placid as he stroked you, touching near but not quite where you needed the pressure.

You gave the bluebell one last fond stroke and then bent to your chores. It was Sunday, so your brother would be at the next farm over with his friend, and your sister always spent Sunday reading her stories, dreaming and sketching. 

The laundry hung and the logs for the kitchen fire restocked, you hurried down to the bluebell field as fast as your legs could carry you, skidding on the loose gravel of the woody path. The sun shone down through the criss-crossing tree branches, casting dappled shade on to the little hideaway where the bluebells made a peacock-blue carpet.

You turned into the hollow to find Stephen sitting among the bluebells, leaning back on his forearms, wrist deep in bluebells. His braces hung loose down his arms, shirt unbuttoned at the neck. His hair was messy, ruffled, an errant curl brushing one eyebrow, and he was so beautiful that he stole your breath.

He called your name and sat up, opening his arms, and you crossed the bluebell carpet towards him, sinking into his lap and cupping his face. Half a day’s beard roughened his face and you welcomed the tiny hurt on your palms.

Stephen dipped his head and kissed you, and you parted your lips to give him easy access. He tasted of hot, sweet tea, and the richness of the roasted fish you’d had served at lunch.

“I missed you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I missed you, too.” He captured your mouth again, lifted your hips, encouraging you to hook your legs around his waist. Pressed this close, you felt his erection laying heavily against your stomach, and your inner muscles clenched.

“Stephen…”

“I want you,” he rasped, one hand flicking open the buttons of your simple linen shirt dress. “Say yes, say we can have each other.”

“Yes, a thousand times yes,” you whispered back. Stephen used both hands to support your back and lowered you gently, bending his head to suckle at your nipples one by one. You gasped, tunnelling a hand through his tumble of chocolate curls, grasping at the silk of his hair as he sucked, licked, and used his teeth. Each tug of your nipple was answered by a fluttering of your inner muscles. 

You used your free hand to pull at his shoulder and he overbalanced, both of you laughing as you sprawled the bluebells together. A bee buzzed lazily overhead as you opened your legs, Stephen settling easily between them. He pushed the hard ridge of his cock against you and you moaned, long and low, trailing your hand between your bodies to open the placket of his trousers.

Stephen let you a low groan as you palmed him greedily, then, remembering how he’d made you feel that first time, you pushed him on to his back, sending him a little grin as you moved down his body.

Stephen cupped your chin. “I didn’t - I don’t expect-”

“You’ll have to manage,” you teased, and started to lick him. You had no idea if he’d had it done to him before, no idea what really to do, but you let his little gasps and groans be your guide, flicking your tongue over the head of him, using your nails to scrape gently at the base of him. He bucked into your mouth, hands fisted in the grass, until finally he nudged your shoulder.

“I want to come inside you. Not like this.”

You gave him one last lick, feeling immensely powerful, and then lifted your skirts, climbing on top of him.

Stephen’s gaze went dark and hot as you took his hand and guided it to your entrance, letting your eyes drift closed as he teased you, finding the little hub of nerves and stroking it with just the right pressure. You pressed into his hand as he grasped his cock and guided it to you. Your orgasm hit just as he started to slide inside you, and you gasped, your heart skipping a beat at the blissfully full sensation.

“Christ,” Stephen groaned as he seated himself fully. You braced your hands on his chest, and he settled his hands on your hips, helping you set a rhythm. The forest twittered around you, birds singing and flowers dancing in the wind as you moved together. You bit your lip to stifle a cry as Stephen lifted a leg, changing the angle and hitting somewhere new, triggering a second climax.

“Oh, fuck-” he muttered, and then he spilled into you, and you slumped on to his chest, his heart thundering under your ear.

“Will it always be like this?” you asked, as he cuddled you close, the sun warming your back.

“I hope so.”

He sounded drowsy, and you leaned up to kiss the firm line of his jaw. In the distance, a dog barked, and the summer breeze teased at the hem of your skirts. It was a perfect afternoon. “I hope so, too. Keep leaving me the bluebells.” 


End file.
